Bad Boys Never Fall

Gemma

“Don’t even sparehim a single glance, and you know what…forget tutoring tonight. Text him that you’re busy with someone else.”

Mercedes pulled out the chair beside Sloane. “Yeah, like with another guy. Serves him right.”

I tucked a piece of fallen hair behind my ear, almost wishing that I’d worn it down today so I could hide. I had no intention of stooping to Isaiah’s level and playing yet another game. It felt like we had been playing a game for weeks. So, to be honest, I didn’t have the energy.

I hadn’t slept much since Friday, after I completely crumbled in front of him only to flee with anger seconds later as my heart continued to thump from our moment. I’d holed up in my room all weekend, thinking about what I’d learned, and each tutoring session that came after felt like an elephant crushing my chest. The only time I left my bed, other than for school and tutoring, was in the very early morning to slap my frustrations onto a canvas before breakfast. I was disappointed and confused about what had happened between us in the library, but I also didn’t regret it. When he touched me, everything stopped, but I thought it was what I had truly needed at the moment, even as shameful as it made me feel. I was beginning to learn that Isaiah was a sort of isolation for me. Not even sketching was taking away the gnawing thoughts and memories that were distorted and broken. In the past, sketching brought them out, but I’d always been in a trance, unable to sort through them or feel them in the moment. That wasn’t how it was anymore. Sketching was replaced with two blue eyes that could see right through me. Everything was just...gone with Isaiah. And it was so dangerous. That was why I couldn’t even look at him as of late. Not even as we sat a few feet away from one another with a study table in between us. He stayed in the library until eleven each night, never once leaving. He didn’t go follow Bain or cut our tutoring time short. I had no idea why, other than maybe he was on edge about Mr. Cunningham checking on us Friday. I couldn’t ask, and he didn’t give up his reasoning. There wasn’t a single word spoken from either of us. Things were left unsaid and lingering.

I shoved my food away, starting to feel weighed down from the week. I’d been feeling the remnants of anger but also anguish from the second I let that memory slip in on Friday. I was sad. I was so incredibly sad for my mom who’d been through something much worse than I thought. I was sad for the five-year-old girl who festered inside me as she watched her mother claw for freedom. I was sad for Tobias because, wherever he was, it probably wasn’t a good place. I left both phones in my room this morning, too untrusting of myself if Isaiah decided to text me on the phone he had given me, and too irrational to care if Richard called me on the other.

Something inside me burned to listen to Sloane and Mercedes and knock Isaiah down a few notches. Everything was so messy between us, and confusion filled every gap that had formed since he found me kneeling below his father at the psych hospital—The Covens. I was angry and felt betrayed in a way, but there was the teeniest, tiniest slip in my chest at the mere thought of him that told me just how fleeting those emotions were.

My gaze followed Bain through the dining hall as a whisper of uncertainty graced my ears. According to Isaiah, Bain had met Richard that night at the psych hospital when we’d followed him, and that did nothing but stir up anxiety. And although I sensed extreme danger regarding Bain, I also wanted to corner him and demand answers. Bain knew Richard. That was something to hold on to.

“Everything is so fucked up,” I muttered under my breath, annoyance flashing through because I swore I could feel Isaiah’s eyes on me from across the long table. Was he looking at me?

Sloane coughed and choked on something, and I whipped my head over to her. “Are you okay?”

Her face was red as she clutched onto her white blouse. She quickly untied the maroon bow around her neck as Mercedes patted her back. Claire, from a few seats down, raised her eyebrows at us and then rolled her eyes, going back to her friends. I didn’t pay any mind to her, though. She didn’t seem to like much of anyone at St. Mary’s unless they had a penis. I couldn’t even count how many times I’d seen her sneaking around with a guy following after her. Although, could I really talk much? Isaiah and I had done things on this very table.

My face flamed at the thought, but I wouldn’t dare look at him.

“I’m fine.” Sloane sipped on her water before putting it down and looking over at me. “Gemma. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say fuck.”

My lips pursed. “When did I say that?”

Mercedes laughed. “Like, five seconds ago. You said that everything was fucked up.”

“Oh.” A breathy laugh came from me. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

Sloane plopped a grape in her mouth before grinning over at me. “You know what you need?”

I half-rolled my eyes, knowing what she was going to say. “To blow off tutoring tonight? I can’t.” I wanted to. I’d wanted to all week because I wasn’t sure how much more I could take, sitting in that quiet library with nothing but the sound of Isaiah’s breathing and my rapid heartbeat in my ears. I couldn’t, though. We had a deal.

“No.” She paused. “I mean, yes. But no. You need to let loose this weekend.”

“This weekend?” I asked.

“Tomorrow night. Claiming party after the lacrosse game.” We met eyes, and she smirked. “You’re going to let loose, Gemma Richardson. I demand it. Let’s have some fun without the Rebels breathing down your neck like a pack of savages. Fuck Isaiah and the bullshit.”

Sloane knew the most about me and Isaiah, although not all of it. She didn’t ask what had happened when I came back to our room last week all muddy and in tears. I was certain it was because she knew I wouldn’t tell. I wasn’t that type of girl. Not to mention, Isaiah and I were like a double-edged sword. Danger on both sides.

Mercedes clapped. “Hell yes! We should pull out all the stops, Sloane. Like...” Mercedes’ voice was on the brink of regret. She retreated her next words, but Sloane nodded in agreement.

“Like we used to do with Journey.”

Mercedes’ lip was held between her teeth as she glanced down the table toward where Isaiah and his friends were sitting. I didn’t follow her gaze, though. Instead, I was thinking about tomorrow night and how much the thought of being normal seemed so inviting. I needed it. I needed to find another way to deal with everything happening lately, and Isaiah was off-limits. I had to find a way to balance it all until I got out of here, and I had too much dignity to act on impulse with him again. I couldn’t rely on his touch. I couldn’t rely on Isaiah to silence my confusion and unanswered questions as the blind future dangled right in front of me.

“Oh shit.” Mercedes quickly snapped her big brown eyes back to me, and I stilled.

My heart began beating quicker, and my stomach fell to the floor. I was too afraid to look. There were too many possibilities that could have caused her to look panicked. “What? What’s wrong?”

“That mother fucker. I swear to God, these damn Rebels! They care about no one but themselves!”

Sloane’s voice was rising, so I placed my hand on her leg to calm her down. I didn’t need any unnecessary looks my way. I hadn’t been on the stupid, gossiping St. Mary’s blog in at least a week, according to Sloane. I suspected that Isaiah was taking care of it anytime he and I were featured.

“Don’t even look down there.” Mercedes was trying to appear calm, whereas Sloane was fuming. Her skin was burning hot against my hand.

Slowly, I swung my attention past Mercedes and her wild, curly hair. I saw Claire look down at me with pity before shaking her head at whatever was unfolding. Why was I nervous? As long as it wasn’t Richard, it was fine. My heart thumped harder. Wait, what if it was Richard?! My chest heaved, but instead of looking for Isaiah in the sea of students, I looked for Bain. If Richard were here, coming to get me, it would be his fault. I was certain of it. But Bain’s face remained smooth. There wasn’t a flicker of accomplishment or even fulfillment there. Instead, he was steady. He watched me, his eyebrows dipping slightly as he tilted his head toward the one place I didn’t want to look.

My blood rushed with embarrassment because it seemed like almost every single person was looking at me, which only confirmed that it had to do with Isaiah. Our peers didn’t know everything that had gone on with us, but Isaiah had made it a point to show them that I was his. The kiss at the last claiming was enough to raise questions, even if it had started off as another game in his mind.

Their pitiful stares were the final shove I needed to raise my chin and find those cool blue eyes that I’d grown to love and hate. As soon as I allowed myself to look, it was like ice falling down on my shoulders in the middle of an avalanche.

There he was, sitting with his three best friends, with his white dress shirt undone at the top and his maroon-and-gold tie hanging loosely beneath his neck. His dark hair was standing up like it was Friday evening after I’d run my hands through it in that moment of weakness. I didn’t recognize the girl that was on his lap. I was too focused on the way his large hand splayed against her ribcage like he was seconds from gripping her and plopping her down on the dining table like he’d done to me the first night he touched me.

I trembled, feeling sick to my stomach. It was like he had cut me. The feeling was brutal even if I had braced myself. I was back to feeling that overbearing emotional pain I wasn’t used to, and instead of letting it envelope me and allowing it to take me down in front of the entire student body, I pushed myself harder onto the seat that was holding me up and looked right back over at Bain. His jaw was set, and his arms were crossed against his chest. He looked angry, and I was too. The rules had changed, and suddenly, I wanted back in the game.

Bain had answers, and I was going to get them, and Isaiah wasn’t going to stop me. I wouldn’t heed his warnings any longer. Not now.

“Letting loose tomorrow sounds like a great idea,” I said, smiling at Sloane and Mercedes.

Sloane’s eyebrow raised, and there was a glimmer in her eye. “Heartbreak is code for rebellion. We’re gonna have some fun.”

“Definitely,” I confirmed. But first, I needed to talk to Bain.